


Would You Like Some Ice With That?

by EverythingHurtsAndImDying



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas is shady af, Castiel's dom eyebrow, Crack, Family Therapist!Sam, I channelled my inner pettiness for this, M/M, Petty!Cas, Shade, a lot of !'s, angsty!Dean, headcanon that Cas hogs the blanket, pretty self indulgent fic ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 00:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11680155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverythingHurtsAndImDying/pseuds/EverythingHurtsAndImDying
Summary: Cas was quiet in the back of the Impala on the way back to the motel. He'd been quiet a lot lately. Dean, who was practically allergic to chick flick moments, had been pointedly avoiding broaching the topic and addressing his angel's ever-piercing glares. Sam, on the other hand, was utterly sick of choking on the UST in the Impala. The two had finally (finally!) progressed from not-so-subtle eyesex and chaste brushes of hands to something that held semblance of a normal relationship – as normal as the Winchester's could get. And now, here they were, ready to check into Hotel Angst for an indefinite period of time. No way in Hell, Heaven and Purgatory was Sam going to let that happen.





	Would You Like Some Ice With That?

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by on a Destiel Facebook fanpage (link down below) and a lovely person who encouraged me to write it! :)
> 
> Written at 1AM (as most of my works are) and unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own

~~~ Link to the prompt photo [here](https://www.facebook.com/542085329250320/photos/a.544941232298063.1073741829.542085329250320/1315605378564974/?type=3&theater) ~~~

 

Cas was quiet in the back of the Impala on the way back to the motel. He'd been quiet a lot lately. Dean, who was practically allergic to chick flick moments, had been pointedly avoiding broaching the topic and addressing his angel's ever-piercing glares. Sam, on the other hand, was utterly sick of choking on the UST in the Impala. The two had finally ( _finally!_ ) progressed from not-so-subtle eyesex and chaste brushes of hands to something that held semblance of a normal relationship – as normal as the Winchester's could get. And now, here they were, ready to check into Hotel Angst for an indefinite period of time. No way in Hell, Heaven and Purgatory was Sam going to let that happen.

"Are you alright, Cas? You've been sorta quiet recently." The younger Winchester asked, voice laced with concern as he shifted his awkwardly long limbs to observe the raven-haired man's response. His query sliced the tense silence; Dean had spontaneously decided against blasting some outdated rock band – it's much easier to stew in your own juice with only the smooth rumble of the Impala.  

"I am fine, thank you, Sam." Castiel's response was as gruff and as solemn-sounding as ever. Though the tone may have been in character for the angel, the obnoxiously loud scoff that resonated from the hunter in the driver's seat was not. 

"That's a loada crap and you know it Cas." He hissed over his shoulder, hands blooming with white as he gripped the wheel.

_Dean acknowledging emotions_? Sam was slightly worried he'd been sucked back into TV Land or that his childhood car might betray him and let Asia leak into the speakers.

The taller hunter let out an emphatic swallow and wriggled uncomfortably as he watched the trenchcoat-wearing angel's squint and tilt his head slightly in a way that just screamed  **CASTIEL** and put any of Sam's simulation fears to rest. Glacier blue eyes had laser focus on the mess of sandy blond hair as the reply came. "No, I do not 'know it' Dean." The quotation marks were audible, as is the way of Castiel, an angel of the Lord. 

Tires squealed and Sam braced himself both physically – being a moose packed into a tiny tin can car ( _say that 3 times fast_ ) meant that he could easily smack his head on the window, roof or dashboard – and mentally – seldom did his big brother mistreat his Baby. So, if he pulled a stunt like that, Sam was going to prepare for Apocalypse Round Two. 

Surprisingly, the older Winchester did not get whiplash, despite how fast he spun around in his seat to face his angel. His brows were knitted together and accusation glistened in fanfiction green eyes as he spoke.

"Really, Cas?  _Really_?" He challenged, almost incredulously.

"Yes, Dean.  _Really_." Castiel declared, hints of annoyance flickering in the way he spoke. 

The brows that were once furrowed flew to the top of the hunter's forehead like they'd been gripped tight and raised from perdition. "You've been so...  _Off_  recently, Cas!" Frustration was seeping from his statement.

Neither broke their locked glare as the bystander of the domestic lifted his hands in a placating manner, palms spread open and pointing upwards. Sam was hesitant to speak, "Maybe you shou-"

"No, Sam!" Dean barked and his brother melted back into his seat submissively, accepting that he was going to be witness to the argument that had been simmering for weeks and waiting for the opportune moment to boil over.

"You've been so petty recently, Cas.  _Christ_!" He didn't give the other man time to react to the blasphemy. "I complained that you hog all the duvet  _once_ so you threw it on the damn floor on your side of the bed! I mentioned that I liked the new look the writers had given Dr. Sexy in the new episode we were watching so you changed the channel to a bee documentary and refused to turn it back! Oh, oh, oh! This one is my favourite! I asked you for a glass of water when you were mad at me for spending the whole day with Baby and you gave me a glass of ice and said, "Wait."  _A glass of freaking ice_. I'm pretty sure that's abuse of angel mojo!" 

Someone had installed an emotion faucet in Dean Winchester and turned it up to full blast, pent up frustration and irritation flowed out of him. Though his face was stained crimson and his brother was sure that a vein in his forehead was about to pop, shoulders drooped like he had just released a weight on his back. 

The atmosphere in the car was thick with hostility as the staredown continued. It only heightened further when Cas' nostrils flared in a challenging manner and raised one eyebrow in a way that said, " _This tiny insignificant human is trying_ _to test me_?"

And, oh God, Dean would have dropped to his knees at that gesture. Castiel, regardless of how stiff and not natural he may seem at times, can have a full conversation with his expressions alone – demand his human of actions that would never dare be refused. But not today. Today the hunter was filled with classic Winchester stubbornness, he wasn't going to fall for that fierce glower. 

The staring contest lasted around another two minutes before the trenchcoat and its bearer vanished into thin air, leaving on the rustle of papers behind; a noise the Winchesters had learnt to associate with feathers and angels and usually severe amounts of pain if it wasn't Castiel. 

"SON OF A BITCH!" Dean exclaimed before violently starting the car. Sam could only sigh weakly to himself as he slinked cautiously back into his original position in the passenger seat. 

It was going to be a quiet ride home. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> This was my first Destiel-centric piece so feel free to lemme know how I did :)
> 
> And please consider clicking that kudos button... even a gentle caress is appreciated :3


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